A Crusader with System in the Middle Ages

In a valley somewhere outside the village.

“What took you so long?” Eric said, watching Hook Eye jog over from the other side of the valley.

“It’s because you let my horse go. You’ll have to get me a new one when we get back to England.” Hook Eye wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and tugged at his collar to let the heat escape.

“Why is a Danish man like you so keen on horses? You don’t know the first thing about a lance charge.”

Although Denmark was now influenced by the Franks and had begun training Knights, for Hook Eye, who had been a slave trader, it was still a foreign fighting technique.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t like them, my lord. I like to use them for transport, for travel, and besides, it was my property,” Hook Eye protested.

“Alright, alright. I’ll get you a replacement later. What’s the situation?” Eric said, waving his hand dismissively.

“I think I’ve found a rebellion suppression force. A very strange one. Only the hundred or so men at the front could be called soldiers. The rest following them were practically a mob of peasants, carrying pitchforks and hoes.”

“Pitchforks. Now those are truly dangerous weapons.”

“My lord, what are you talking about?”

“I’m saying, pitchforks are the perfect tool for stopping horses, aren’t they? So it was the right call for us not to be on horseback. You should be thanking me, Hook Eye. Otherwise, you’d have lost more than just your property.”

“But I wasn’t even planning to take part in this operation. I recall you agreed to let me leave, my lord, didn’t you? And then you let my horse run off.”

Hook Eye had originally planned to return to Shazha Castle with Leif, but Eric had set his warhorse free.

Without a horse for transport, he had no way of keeping up with the journey.

He was still sore about it, but abandoning his lord to run off on his own was always the wrong thing to do.

So he just grumbled a few words about his lost property.

“What about you, Oliver? Don’t tell me you stayed behind voluntarily,” Hook Eye said, looking at the other Knight beside him who had also chosen to stay.

The man was a tall youth.

“My lord boarded up my window. Not a single sliver of light got in. By the time I felt something was wrong, I’d already slept into the afternoon. Well, this is just great. Maybe now I’ll get to sleep forever.”

The young man’s name was Oliver. He was lively and quick-tempered, with light brown hair, green eyes, a ready smile, and swift movements.

He was the younger son of a Knight’s family in Avranches. His father died during the Norman Conquest, after which his half-brother became the head of the family. He lived as a servant for several years, but his half-brother eventually decided to drive both him and his mother out.

To frame him for a crime, his brother bribed a village woman to seduce him, then arranged for the woman’s husband to catch them in the act, and even gave him a dagger. In the end, Oliver accidentally killed the poor husband.

Oliver’s brother feigned forgiveness and pardoned him, but secretly sent people to incite the angry villagers. The villagers saw it as a violation of an ancient covenant—a blatant act of bullying by those in power.

The villagers paid a hefty sum to petition Eric’s Circuit Court, demanding that Eric either brand Oliver or cut off one of his hands. But Oliver challenged Eric to a duel. Amused, Eric gave him a sword.

He was easily defeated, as he had almost no training, but he was strong and nearly as fast as Guy. So, Eric pardoned his crime on the condition that he swear fealty to him and become his attendant.

He performed admirably in the war against the Milan Marquisate, and Eric granted him a small village in Milan as a fief.

“Don’t look on the bad side. Everything has a good side and a bad side,” Eric said, waving a comforting hand at his two Knights.

“I can’t see a good side to this. We should be heading to Shazha,” Hook Eye grumbled, pouting.

“Oh, I know. The good side is we get to meet God today. The bad side is also that we get to meet God today,” Oliver said, scratching his head.

“Think about it. Seven is a good number, isn’t it? God created the heavens and the earth in six days and rested on the seventh. It represents the completion of His creation. It represents perfection,” Eric said with a smile, shaking his head.

“I think God definitely wants us to rest, my lord,” Hook Eye said, slapping his own forehead. “Though maybe after today, we’ll get to rest forever.”

“Remember, the Israelites circled the city for seven days, and on the seventh day, they blew seven trumpets before the walls of Jericho fell. Be patient. God will watch over us,” Eric said, unconcerned.

He stood up and clapped Oliver and Hook Eye on their shoulders. Then he looked behind him at the group of villagers hiding in the bushes. They too were squatting there, holding farming tools like pitchforks and hoes. It wasn’t just men; even all the women had come, bringing whatever implements they thought could be used as weapons.

Their faith was clearly far stronger than that of the two Knights, Oliver and Hook Eye. They were determined to have a showdown with the suppression army, despite being pitifully weak.

Eric’s gaze fell on the Persian Physician crouching in the far corner. His son and daughters were squatting by his side, also looking ready to fight.

“My lord, is something wrong?”

“I’m planning to send you and your children away from here, Joseph.”

“What? My lord, what are you saying?” Joseph was clearly stunned, looking at Eric in disbelief.

“I’m saying, this place isn’t safe for you and your children, is it? You don’t fit in with the Armenians and Greeks here. Even though you and your children are Christians, people will always hold a grudge against you, won’t they? If we suffer heavy losses fighting that suppression force in a little while, they might just take their anger out on you.”

“No, my lord, I don’t want to leave. I believe…”

“No, you do! And you’d better believe it, because the more you believe it, the more the current situation will favor us—if you truly intend to save the people of this village.” Eric cut him off, then whispered a few words in his ear.

Sweat beaded on Joseph’s forehead. “My lord, this is…”

“It will take time for my army to get here. Until then, what I need to do is delay, not fight them to the bitter end. If we fight now, we might not lose, but if we fight later, we will definitely win. Don’t worry, I’ll go with you. I will do my best to ensure the safety of you and your children. Let me see if your Christian faith is worth the price you’ll have to pay, Joseph.” Eric’s pupils narrowed as he stared at Joseph, waiting for his response.

“I…” Joseph hesitated. “But my lord, I beg you, let my children stay…”

“No. At least not all of them. Children are always more convincing than adults,” Eric refused him flatly.

“Fine. Alright,” Joseph said, clenching his fists and finally agreeing through gritted teeth.

“From now on, you are a survivor of a Muslim massacre. It was a horrific slaughter, because it wasn’t just villagers; a large army of Christians had also been stationed in the village. You, your son, and your daughters only survived by hiding under the bodies. You’re now taking your children to Hama City to seek refuge. I am your nephew, a leper.”

As he spoke, Eric put on a helmet. A scarf already concealed everything on his face, and the helmet’s faceplate transformed his features into a black skull—a gleaming metal mask that left only his eyes visible.